


Interruptions

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Series: Stuck [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fade to Black, Fluff, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Tony, Public Display of Affection, Slice of Life, Timestamp, Tony POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: Tony realises that his heat's coming and he needs to find Steve.A future timestamp forStuck in a..., but can be read independently.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Stuck [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712872
Comments: 78
Kudos: 938
Collections: Tony-involved Omegaverse Fics





	Interruptions

Left to his own devices, there are few things that can throw Tony out of a workshop groove. Typical hard limits are hunger and exhaustion; softer limits are the occasional frustration at being unable to solve a problem and its opposite, the thrill of finding a solution that he then needs to show off or celebrate.

Then there is the _other_ kind of distraction.

Today, Tony’s working on a pair of experimental rocket boots, which are balanced on a test gantry and awaiting power-up. It’s a straightforward test – a culmination of the morning’s work and is perfectly pedestrian right down to DUM-E’s concerned chirps from nearby with the fire extinguisher. Yet what seemed crystal clear a moment ago seems suddenly hard to pin down, the numbers slipping away from sense every time he looks at them, and forcing Tony to futz with the test parameters on his control screen.

It doesn’t help that his lower back aches. He’s been rubbing his knuckles against it absent-mindedly throughout the morning, though he’d mostly relegated it to a distant ignorable distraction until it travelled upward along his spine and is adding on to the pile of things that are not doing his concentration any favors.

Wait.

“Oh,” Tony says in surprise. “Huh.”

A heat, then. Maybe. He thinks it might be early, not that he’s ever been that good at cycle tracking. That said, Steve _is_ good at cycle tracking and has called his past heats that they’ve shared together right down to a 36-hour margin of error, so the fact that Steve hadn’t blocked Tony’s whole schedule today means that it must be either early or a false alarm.

Tony tips his head back, sets his feet apart and closes his eyes. Rolling warmth immediately blooms out of lower stomach, sending him doubling over.

All right, it’s definitely a heat.

Which means that Tony can surprise Steve for once.

Tony grins. “JARVIS, where’s the good ‘ol Captain?”

“ _In the conference room, sir._ ”

“Great. Put a bookmark on everything, would you? Thanks.”

Tony liberally sprays himself with Axe (so his scent won’t give the game away) and leaves the workshop with a spring in his step.

It’s not that he minds having to handle a heat on his own – he’s done that often enough, and gotten suppressants for whenever it’s too inconvenient to bother – but having Steve on his team, as it were, makes the whole thing far more enjoyable. It’s an excuse to drop everything (workshop binge included) and spend time with his favorite person; who, coincidentally, thinks of Tony as _his_ favorite person, and isn’t that just something?

Though Steve would likely protest with something like: do they _need_ an excuse? They can just be together whenever they want to?

To which Tony would respond, but this is the universe purposefully reminding them to take a break from whatever else is going on and just _be_. Also, the accompanying heat-heightened orgasms are fun.

Tony has more of that make-believe argument with Steve all the way down from the workshop to the conference room floor. It does occur to him that he could go to their room first and set it up – snacks, liquids, change of sheets etc. – but surprising Steve feels far more urgent. Besides, they’ve gotten a pretty good heat/rut routine down by now, which only needs their cycles to settle in sync to be perfect.

But that’s a goal for another time.

Today’s goal has Tony sneaking up to the entrance of the conference room, from which he can hear Steve and other voices in discussion. Tony’s step falters a little as he parses the tones of their voices. Business-like and serious, though it can’t be _that_ serious since they left the door open.

Tony considers his options. He backtracks the way he came and detours to the pantry that’s two rooms over. There’s coffee brewing there already, so he helps himself to a cup and is halfway through it before remembering that caffeine’s not a good idea before a heat. He’d never bothered with such things before Steve, and the fact that that thought has Tony feeling fond instead of annoyed says _a lot_.

“Fine.” Tony dumps the remainder of the cup, has some water instead, and trudges back towards the conference room.

“—it’s not enough,” Steve’s saying. “I’m sorry, but I’m not comfortable with this.”

“I don’t blame you,” Maria replies. “But we can’t keep the task force there. It’s recall or finish it.”

Tony’s a handful of feet from the doorway. He pauses there, hands on hips, and tries to will the meeting to die by ESP alone.

“I know a guy,” Clint says.

“You know a guy that I don’t?” Natasha says.

“All right,” Steve says. “How do you want to play it?”

Tony rolls his eyes at the ceiling and retreats to the wall just next to the doorway. He leans against it, arms crossed and the ache of earlier starting to creep down his thighs. Excitement of getting to see Steve apparently distracted him enough that he didn’t notice the slow, coiling warmth gathering down below.

Tony takes a deep, chest-rattling breath. His nose always gets more sensitive leading into a heat, and sure enough, he can make out the teasing curl of Steve’s scent in the air – familiar and calm and not close enough. When Tony shuts his eyes he can picture Steve’s form in crystal-clear mental definition: his brow furrowed and his arms crossed, a Captain America in full business mode and not expecting a diversion-in-wait a mere couple of yards away.

“—two-person show,” Clint says. “Any more and we spook them.”

Tony realizes that he’s rubbing his elbows against the wall behind him. He’s marking said wall, but he’s also working off the creeping itch under his skin. At this rate he’s going to start rubbing his face and other sundry body parts against the wallpaper soon. It’s nice wallpaper, and the Tower _is_ technically his so he can mark everything as much as he wants, but the itch won’t be satisfied by that. It’s more likely that the itch will simply grow, and become intolerable, and there’ll be a Tony-shaped scent mark in the wall that’ll take forever to clean.

It occurs to Tony that he’d sped up his heat by coming out here to find Steve, who is _right there_. In the next room. When he could be in the same room as Tony, and preferably _in_ Tony to boot.

Now that’s a nice thought.

It’s a _very_ nice thought, in fact, and is further buoyed by some very nice memories that he and Steve have made together lately.

Tony realizes he’s panting. His gulps of air dry out his lips, and make him dizzy. He feels compelled, pulled, drawn.

He only realizes he’s started walking when he’s already taken a couple of steps away from the wall, his head tipped up slightly as though tugged through the open space by the invisible lure that is Steve’s presence.

Tony enters the conference room and, finally _seeing_ Steve, makes a bee-line towards him. He also vaguely registers other people in the room but they’re mere shadows, distant and vague, and very unlike the solid, glowing figure of one Steve Rogers.

“Hey Tony,” Steve says. “I thought we were—”

He’s cut off when Tony reaches his target, flinging his arms around Steve’s torso and pressing his face against Steve’s neck. Steve is solid and warm, a wall of muscle that speaks to safety more than strength, and Tony breathes him in deep. There are a few inches of bare skin just above Steve’s collar, and though the skin has Tony’s scent on it, it is muted, which will not do at all. Tony rubs his cheek against Steve’s skin, in firm but small motions back and forth, while Tony’s chest does the same work marking up Steve’s torso.

“Oh, uh.” Steve takes a questioning sniff. “Ah.”

“Well, that’s your day gone,” Maria says. “Just let Barton take an away team—”

“No,” Steve says firmly, “this isn’t an excuse—”

“It _is_ time-sensitive,” Natasha says. “Just saying.”

“I know, but—” Steve makes a surprised sound when Tony moves, sending his arms upward over Steve’s shoulders and wrapping them behind his neck. “Tony—”

Tony pulls. Not very hard, but just enough that Steve hunches over a little, giving Tony the boost he needs to bounce up and wrap both legs around Steve’s waist. Steve is, of course, a very smart man, and immediately has both hands under Tony’s thighs to hold him steady. Tony’s rumbling purr of approval lands at the soft skin of Steve’s neck, just under his ear.

“Yeah, you’re done,” Clint says. “Got a bad case of a limpet.”

“No, I want you to get in touch with your guy, find out what he can put together in 24 hours,” Steve says. Tony really likes the way Steve’s chest vibrates when he talks. He shows his contentment by tightening his grip around Steve, who pats his thigh twice in subtle acknowledgement. “The task force stays. You two put your pull-out plan to paper and send it to my email in an hour, before we even think of engaging.”

“An hour,” Natasha echoes.

“You’ll probably need longer than that to call it in,” Steve says, which has Natasha huffing in amusement. “Task force stays. Got it?”

“Got it,” Maria says. “I’ll pull the latest sat images. An hour, you said?”

“Yeah. Well.” Steve adjusts his grip on Tony and starts walking, presumably to a more private and agreeable destination. “Thereabouts.”

“Bye!” Clint calls out as they leave the room. Tony lifts one hand from Steve’s shoulder just long enough to wave.

When Steve next speaks, his voice is different. Softer, like the very bedsheets Tony hopes Steve’s taking them to. “You’re early,” he says.

“Your powers of deduction are astounding.” Tony tilts his chin up to nip at Steve’s ear, and is gratified by Steve’s shudder against him. Steve’s steps speed up to almost a run, jostling Tony as they move along. Tony grins. “Are you seriously going to take _breaks_ to answer _emails_?”

“I can multitask,” Steve says tetchily. “Or at the very least, get you distracted enough that you won’t complain.”

“A challenge,” Tony says with a hum. “Sorry for interrupting the whatever, though.”

“Don’t be.” Steve stops walking, and removes one hand from under Tony’s thigh. There’s a click of the doorknob, and then Steve’s shifting his weight to toe the door open and bring them both inside. “I’m grateful that you’d come to me when you need me. That’s, uh. It’s nice.”

Oh, so Steve _likes_ the public display. Success.

Tony’s still grinning when Steve tosses him on the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr [here!](https://no-gorms.tumblr.com/post/616014664972861440/i-guess-this-is-a-timestamp-for-stuck-in-a-last)


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